Junk in the trunk.

This is not an easy conversation for me to have on my blog. In fact, I wrote the majority of this post nearly a month ago, and I've just been sitting on it, making sure I want to put it out there.

But ultimately, after having a good amount of time to mull it over, I've decided it's going up because is something I feel really compelled to write about. To be honest, it's probably more for my own therapeutic benefit than anything else, but also because I think it's really important for us to constantly be looking at our lives and making sure that we're dealing with our "junk" because when we carry around things that aren't resolved, it starts to affect our lives in ways we'd never imagine.

For years, I've been able to fly under the radar without these particular issues not seeming to affect my life all that much. But, I can now see that ever since Kaylee was born, these issues have been trying to push their way to the surface. I have this fear that the same things that happened to me, the same harmful ideas and concepts that were ingrained in my head as a kid and young adult, will somehow get to my child as well.

For now, I'm keeping things pretty general. Maybe down the road, as I figure things out a little better, I'll share more, but I figure this here is a good place to start.

About a month ago, I wrote a post about how I hadn't been sleeping well. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why, until I had two pivotal conversations - one with my mom, and one with a friend that prompted me to start digging a little deeper. She helped me realize that maybe my brain was literally giving me a wake-up call in the night, saying, "Yo! Sera! There's stuff in here you need to deal with!" She thought that maybe, if I could pinpoint whatever that was, I might be able to sleep better again. And she was right, because I've been sleeping like a log ever since I figured out what was bothering me.

So...here's the post I began writing on February 9, 2010.

*****

I think I've finally figured out what's been keeping me up at night for weeks on end.

After talking with my mom yesterday, it seems that I can pinpoint the time when the sleeplessness began, and now it's all making sense to me.

Not long after Kaylee's ear surgery, we made the choice to keep her out of the church nursery to limit her exposure to illness during the cold/flu season. Her immune system was shot after 2 months of heavy-duty antibiotics, and we didn't want her to end up in the hospital again. So, I began staying home with her on Sundays while Dennis went to church.

Stepping back from church gave me the opportunity to really look at some things in my own life. I've been going to church since I was a baby, but not long after Kaylee was born, I realized I had been having less and less interest in church, and I wasn't quite sure why. It's always been a big part of my life, and growing up, it's where I formed my identity, so to have these thoughts of wanting to step back from it for a while seemed weird to me.

Unfortunately, many aspects of my identity were skewed as a result of some ideologies I learned in the churches I went to.

Because of what I was told over and over during my younger years in church, I've been spending my life trying to live up to expectations that are nothing short of impossible. I've had an all or nothing mentality. I've driven myself to the edge with anxiety and worry and panic because I haven't been able to achieve perfection and the ideal image of who I thought I should be.

I've lived in constant fear of being judged, not being liked, not being good enough, and not making other people happy, and the things I was lead to believe in church ultimately set me up for some really unhealthy perceptions of myself later in life.

I was led to believe a whole series inaccurate things about myself...what it means to be a woman, a mother, a wife, and a Christian.

What I was told all those years ago has set me up to have these underlying themes of guilt and shame throughout my life, even when they were completely and utterly unnecessary and unfounded.

The intellectual part of my brain knows that I was lied to, that I unabashedly trusted people who never deserved my trust and who did nothing but hurt me in return.

It's just taking me some time to accept the fact that the things I learned in church as a young, trusting, impressionable girl have left a tremendously deep footprint on my heart, and it's not one of those footprints in the sand that's light and pretty - it's like a footprint from a big old nasty heavy boot with steel toes.

Being away from church for a while and having time to really think about some of the not so great behind-the-scenes stuff that all churches have (I don't care how "great" a church is - they've all got junk. They're run by people, and none of us are perfect) it's just made old memories fresh and raw, and it's just made me all kinds of angry and ticked off. I can look back on things with a different perspective and see how blinded and naive and vulnerable I was.

The only place I know to go from here is - well, to counseling, to be honest with you. Trying to get my head and my heart on the same page is a rather difficult thing. I'm a much stronger, more confident, and way less naive person than I was back then, but I need somebody neutral to help me figure this stuff out.

I'm comfortable in my faith, and I believe that God accepts me as I am, and that He doesn't want me to live in shame, fear, or guilt. I know those things, but it doesn't change some of the things that happened to me over the last 20 years. It doesn't change the fact that people - who claimed to be doing God's work - did and said things to me that I will never, ever forget, and that will always, always hurt me.

I just know that now, at the slightest sign of being hurt by people who claim to be Christian and doing "God's work" - all I want to do is run. I want to protect myself from ever being hurt like that again. And I'm trying to find the balance between protecting my daughter from those very things, while - at the same time - teaching her about our faith in an accurate light.

There's still a lot for me to figure out, so I'm just going to end here. I certainly welcome your comments and your stories and your experiences. Let's just keep things friendly, ok? Any mean or nasty comments will not be published.

(This post is a part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop taking place every Thursday over at Mama's Losin' It.)

Let's just go ahead and start things off with some cake down the dress.

Hands down, the funniest thing that happened at our wedding was during the cake cutting at the reception. Dennis and I talked beforehand about how it would go, and we didn't have plans for anything to get too crazy. Maybe a little bit of smeared frosting, but nothing crazy. Nothing crazy was the plan.

And then, the cake Dennis was about to give me took a nosedive straight down the front of my dress. We won't share the comment my dad made. You can just use your imagination. :)

*This post is a part of Writer's Workshop at Mama's Losin' It.

Real motherhood.

Motherhood has changed me in so many ways. I could talk about the cup size reduction, the fat relocation, the lack of sleep, the fact that I now eat things off the floor on a regular basis and occasionally partake of toddler foods for my own snacks, but today, I just want to focus on one aspect of how motherhood has changed me. And that, my friends, is the fact that I'm no longer as judgmental toward mothers.

Before I entered the world of motherhood, I will admit that I was totally judgmental.

I'd see moms in their sweats and messy hair and think, "Man, she's let herself go. Would it hurt to spend 5 minutes with a brush and a tube of mascara?" Mean, I know.

On the other end of the spectrum, I'd see those moms who were just totally gorgeous wearing the nice outfits, toting around their beautiful, well-behaved gorgeous children with perma-smiles on their faces and think to myself, "See? She took some time for herself? She hasn't let herself go. Look how cute her kids look in those trendy little outfits! Awww!"

Aw, BARF is what I think to myself now, as I sit in my sweats with no mascara on trying to pick spaghetti and peanut butter out of my hair.

Barf to the lady with the perfect outfit, the perfect children, and the smile that never fades. I'm calling her bluff because that's not real motherhood.

Now, hear me out. I like to look nice when I go out in public. I usually wear makeup every day, and I, for the most part, try to be presentable. Nothing wrong with that. But, there's also nothing wrong with going to the store in your sweats and crazy hair. To each his own.

What bugs the heck out of me is when women put this crazy pressure on themselves to act like they always have it together and that every single moment of every day with their children is filled with nothing but love and laughter and hugs. Oh, and no one ever farts or burps or says a cuss word in their little world, either.

Sure, there are moms who may have a better handle on things than others. Some may be more organized, more calm, better able to cope in stressful situations, but let's be honest - trying to act like it's all fun and games is just silly.

It's hard - plain and simple, and to me - it's really refreshing to be able to talk about the way it really is. I've been so blessed to have friends (and readers!) who are also willing to tell it like it is.

Frankly, I don't have time for sugar coating in my life (unless that sugar coating is on a piece of cake - in that case, I have PLENTY of time). I want people around me who can relate, who can be open and honest and not afraid to admit that this motherhood gig is no cakewalk.

When we give ourselves permission to admit that we have days when it feels like we weren't cut out for this, I think it helps us to enjoy and appreciate and relish in the multitude of fun and down-right hilarious days of motherhood as well.

In real motherhood, you can't have one without the other.

*This post is a part of Mama Kat's Thursday Writer's Workshop, hosted at Mama Kat's Losin It.

Losing my teeth in a caramel apple and explosive sandbox volcanoes

Do you ever think back on your childhood and wonder why you remember some things?

Although I lived in 3 different houses in my growing up years, one of the homes in particular comes to mind when I think of my childhood home. We moved there before I was old enough to remember, and we moved away when I was about 10.

It was a cute little 2 story with a grassy front yard, a fenced in backyard, a swing set, a sandbox and a dog kennel with our obnoxious dog, Axel (yes, for the Guns 'n Roses Axel), who was forever sniffing my butt every time I went outside.

I have so many fond memories of our time in that home (the constant butt sniffing not being one of those...).

Sitting on my front porch in the summertime offering the mailman a bite of my lime popsicle.

Coming *this* close to getting my little brother to eat a dog turd because I told him it was a tootsie roll.

Making the conscious choice to lock the door to my room, step outside of it, and pull the door closed, bidding all my toys farewell because of my brilliant plan to tell my dad that I couldn't clean my room because I was locked out of it. I may go the rest of my childhood without my toys, but if it meant I didn't have to clean it, it was worth it all. The plan got shot to crap the moment my dad was all, "What the hell!" and picked the lock with a pen. And I thought it was such a brilliant plan...

Watching in disbelief as my little brother - a toddler at the time - crawled under the table and the tried to stand up, hitting his head and then yelling, "Shit!"

Waking inside my house on my birthday to find a yellow brick road made of construction paper with clues about little munchkins waiting for me in the basement, leading to a surprise Wizard of Oz birthday party.

Losing my front teeth in a caramel apple when I went over to the neighbor kid's house to play.

Learning how to play pacman on our ginormous new computer. It was super high tech with a brown screen and orange lettering.

Watching ET in the basement with my family for the first time, and covering my eyes during the part at the end where ET is in all those tubey things and looks all powdery and chalky.

Using masking tape to put prices on all my toys, pretending I had my own store.

Sitting on the sidewalk in front of my house capturing ants with a shovel and putting them in buckets, naming each and every one.

Making volcanoes in the sandbox with a vinegar concoction of some kind.

When we travel back to the town we used to live in, we drive by our old house. It looks the same, but now it's gray instead of black and white. And it seems smaller. The neighbors who lived in the green house next door are still there. They told us people moved in who were selling crack or some other illegal drug.

Frickin' idiots.

Our family was never made of money, but my parents sure did a heck of a lot of things to make sure we had a buttload of fun memories to look back on.

And that, to me, is one of the things I get most excited about when it comes to being a parent. Now it's my turn to teach my kid all sorts of fun stuff like how to start a rock collection, how to make volcanoes in your back yard, and how to get out of cleaning your room for 3 minutes. There's so much to look forward to!

This post is a part of Writer's Workshop, hosted by Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It

Wait, wait. I'm having a moment here...

Sometimes all I want is just a minute.

Well, that's a lie. I want more than a minute. I'd like 5, 10, 45 minutes, or hey - how about a whole afternoon? A whole day? A weekend? That's probably pushing it...

My life has a tendency to spin a bit out of control at times, just as I'm sure yours does from time to time. Things pile up, the stress continues to mount, and I reach a point where I have a hard time just carrying on as usual.

Sometimes it just gets to be too much, and if I could just have a minute (and by minute I mean at least a couple of hours), I could function oh-so-much better.

Do you ever have those times in your life where you feel like so much is going on that you don't have the ability to just sit? Just be? Just think and ponder and reflect and get back to basics?

That's what kind of time I'm having.

I try to wind down every night by reading a book before bed. It relaxes me, it distracts my mind, makes my eyes tired, and helps me get a restful night's sleep. But even that doesn't give me what I ultimately need, and the majority of the time, I don't make what I need a priority.

I think it has to do with the fact that there are these unspoken expectations that go along with being a wife and a mother and, in general, a woman in today's world. I think we're finally making some progress as it is becoming more acceptable to take care of ourselves, but that is not how it's been for women in our society.

You can talk about women's liberation until you're blue in the face, but the fact is - we are still followed around with these expectations that we are supposed to do certain things and be a certain way.

Cook dinner. Take care of your babies. Listen. Nurture. Behave. Don't be bitchy. Don't be rude. Volunteer. Don't lose your temper. Don't confront. Say yes. Go there. Be there. Do this. Do that.

It's so sad that for many of us, it's like pulling teeth just to say no to something. We're plagued by this guilt, and for those of us that are moms, we all suffer from Mommy Guilt in its many forms.

Guilt...

For not spending enough time with our kids.
For not feeding them organic or fresh food.
For giving them pre-packaged, microwave it in 30 seconds lunches.
For plopping them in front of the TV so we can have some silence.
For wanting to get away.
For using formula instead of breast feeding.
For getting mad at them.
For yelling at them.

We're scared...

Of being judged.
Of not being perfect.
Of not being as good as those other moms who appear have it all together.
That we really can't handle all that comes our way.

But, that's not how it's supposed to be.

We shouldn't plague ourselves with guilt. We shouldn't be scared of failing or of being judged or of falling short of the mark.

We are humans. We are moms. And we are doing the best that we can.

But, if there's one thing we suck at, it's taking care of ourselves. Taking care of ourselves without the guilt...

...Realizing that just because we want to get away from our kids and our spouses and our homes and our responsibilities - THAT DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE BAD MOMS.

We can't be on our game if we're burning the candle at both ends and constantly on edge about something because we've just had it up to HERE and feel like we're going to crack. We have so much on our plates as women - I don't care if you have kids, work outside the home, are married, are single, whatever. The mere fact that we are women automatically means that we have a tremendous amount of responsibility, stress, and unrealistic expectations.

We all just need a minute. A minute to breathe, to think, to be ALONE and not be bothered.

I've felt the need for my own little minute coming for quite a while now, and the events of the past couple weeks, eventually resulting in my 16-month-old spending 3 nights in the hospital have only made that more clear to me.

I have so much on my mind. I feel so overwhelmed. And I am still shook up about everything that happened. But, I came home to past due bills, piles of laundry, not a clean pair of underwear in sight, and a kitchen full of dirty dishes. I couldn't just melt down. I had things to tend to.

So, hmmm...have a much-needed cry fest and let everything out, or gee - get our house payment in the mail yesterday to avoid late fees and annoying calls at 8:45 p.m. from the idiots at the bank? Let's go ahead and just make that payment. The breakdown can wait for another day...

I want to be able to just sit and think. I want some time to myself where I don't feel the need to accomplish chores and run errands and be productive.

And Friday, I'm going to have my minute.

I've got to play the mom card first thing in the morning to take Kaylee to a follow-up appointment, but after that...I'm a free woman.

I'm getting a spa pedicure at a fancy little spa (thank you Colin and Sarah!) where they have huge cushy chairs that you sink way down into. They have big copper bowls with marbles in the bottom, bubbles galore, and rose petals on top of the bubbles where your toes soak and soak and soak. There's scrubbing and massaging and hot paraffin wax dips. And beautimous toes, freshly painted in what I'm guessing will be a deep, sparkly red.

Who knows what will come after that. All I know is there will be no washing of clothes or dishes, no paying of bills, no poopy diapers, no naptimes (unless I decide I want a nap), no crying from people whose name is not Sera, and no stress.

I don't have a plan. And that's how I want it. No strings. No real plans. Just time. Time to chill out, to let things sink in, to cry if I want to, and to get myself back together - back where I feel like I can handle things again and where I feel more at peace.

What would YOU do with a minute?

*This post is a part of Mama Kat's brainchild - Writer's Workshop - taking place every Thursday over at Mama's Losin' It.

Oh, that? It's nothing. It's just my front yard. Floating down the street.

They say there's a first time for everything, and I say - yeah, there's a first time for everything, and all those first things can be boiled down into two very simple categories: first times that rock your face off, and first times that scare the living daylights out of you.

Let's talk specifics.

So...first times that rock your face off...

First car. First time on the Gravitron at the fair. First plane ride. First job out of college. First baby. First time your baby laughs. First time you do a Total Body Sculpt workout with Gilad. First time you simultaneously hold a small child while peeing and talking on your cell phone. Are we getting the picture yet?

Now, first times that scare the tar out of you...

First time you lacerate your middle finger on a broken olive oil jar. First time you bare hand a turd out of the tub (your child's, not your own - let's just be clear now as I can't having you all thinking I poop in the bathtub - I assure you I do not). First time you lose someone you love. First time your front yard decides enough is enough and it packs up, along with a mighty rushing river and decides to bid you farewell without so much as even a goodbye wave as it goes floating down the street in front of your house.

We got some freak of nature rainstorm in our neighborhood this week (in an area notorious for droughts, I'll have you know) and it ransacked our front yard. Hmmm. I think ransacked might be a more appropriate word to use when describing what burglars do to a house, but I'm using it here anyway. It sounds good.

Anyway, this God-forsaken storm took out part of our cement step, all of our landscaping, and the fabric that was underneath the landscaping. The water (and clay-like dirt from our property) also decided to take a fun trip through our air conditioner and our vents, and flooded the crawl space under our house, where our electric water heater is housed.

And, insurance isn't covering a thing because - oh, I don't know why...BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE FLOOD INSURANCE because no one in this town has flood insurance because we are in a frigging DROUGHT area.

But! The claims specialist assured me that, in the future, they WILL cover landscaping if someone, other than myself, is driving a motor vehicle and runs into either my trees or my shrubs, uprooting or damaging them. Gee, thanks, lady. I don't have any trees or shrubs - it's a drought area and I don't want to pay a gajillion dollars a month to water them so we have landscape rocks, which happen to not be covered even though they cost more than your precious trees and shrubs...

So, getting back on point. Yes, there's a first time for everything. I never thought I'd experience the first time I watched my front yard float down the road, but now I can say that I have, and that I hope to high heaven and all the way back that it never happens again.

Here's our mighty raging river...

This post is a part of one of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, taking place every Thursday over at Mama Kat's Losin' It. If you're not playing along, you totally should be.

New mamas and future mamas, listen up!

This week Mama Kat is asking her readers to give advice as part of Writer's Workshop. So - new and future mamas, even though you didn't ask, Mama Kat did, so this is not considered unsolicited advice - that thing we all hate so very much.

There are so many nuggets of wisdom I've got sitting up in this head of mine, just waiting to be shared with the world, but I'll just share a few of them with you today.

1. That mom in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt you snickered at in Wal-Mart who had the screaming kid with something orange on his face, hair with something sticky in it, and only one shoe on? Maybe next time don't snicker at her. That's gonna be you some day. You can swear up and down all you want that you'll never take your kid in public if he's unpresentable, and that you will always look cute when you show your face in a large shopping center, but that will all be a big lie. Please proceed to #2.

2. The minute you say, "I'll never" is the minute fate will look upon you and laugh a hysterically deep and annoying belly laugh. I uttered those two fateful words in my head in regards to a couple of furry little beasts named Barney and Elmo. And to be honest with you, Barney and Elmo should be the new words for MOMMY GETS A SHOWER TODAY in our house. Seriously. You'll be surprised the things you'll do that you swore you never would. Go ahead, join me and the ranks of thousands of other neglectful and mean mothers who let their THREE month olds watch Baby Einstein so we could catch a quick nap or check our email. I dare you.

3. When you're pregnant, people will tell you - "You better sleep while you can!" with a look on their face that instantly makes you want to reach out and strangle them because you've heard that piece of advice a gajillion times. Really, they don't know what they're talking about. Sleep doesn't carry over after you have a baby. You won't sleep at the hospital after you have the baby, and you won't sleep in long stretches for an ungodly period of time after you bring your little bundle home. You could sleep your life away before you have kids and it won't matter one bit. So, you know what I say? Don't sleep! Party it up. Live a little. Shop at Target for 3 hours. Go to the grocery store and appreciate the fact that you can get 50 items in 20 minutes or less, and a small creature in your cart will not be shouting and screaming as if you are beating her silly, even though you're actually 2 feet away from her.

4. And, on the less funny and more practical side, there are things you are going to need at 2 in the morning, and no one will have given them to you at your baby shower because they were too busy buying you Johnny Jump Ups and Pack 'N Plays, which do not replace elecrolytes, cure yeast diaper rashes, or help in between doses of Tylenol. So, baby on the way? Go to the store and get these goodies so you actually have them when you need them: generic Pedialyte (come on - you have a baby now - time to start buying the storebrand, ladies!), generic Pedialyte pops, Hyland's teething tablets, Infant's Tylenol AND Infant's Motrin (and be sure to ask your pediatrician about how you can stagger these medications to keep your kid constantly drugged up...I mean contantly drugged up when they're in pain, of course), anti-fungal cream for yeast diaper rashes - if it says for athlete's foot or jock itch, that's what you're looking for, and go ahead and pick up some chocolate that you will bust out for yourself when you are dealing with all of the above problems at the very same time.

That wraps up my advice for the day.

But! if you have a daughter, a granddaughter, or a special little girl in your life, you might want to catch this last bit as well. In about three weeks, Laughing Through the Chaos is going to be a part of a book blog tour for the book The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence, and we have the opportunity to do a question and answer post with the author, Rachel Simmons, author of Odd Girl Out.

I haven't finished the book yet, but so far it's great. It's all about raising our daughters to be confident, assertive, and to be brave enough to go after what they want in life, rather than dealing with some of the issues so many of us who are raising daughters have, like being people pleasers, being passive agressive and afraid to say things like they are or not being confident enough to confront people in an appropriate manner. I am loving what this book stands for, and I hope that it will help me in my attempt to raise one heck of a girl who already has enough spunk and perhaps not enough fear.

Please leave a comment or email me at laughingthroughthechaos@gmail.com with your questions for Rachel Simmons. I'd like to email the questions in the next week so she has plenty of time to answer them. So...questions/ideas/concerns you have about raising a confident girl? I know I'll be asking about what us parents of infants can do to start off on the right track and do things the way we should before we hit the teen years. Shoot your questions and such my way, and then we'll hear what an expert has to say about it. Can't wait to see what you come up with!

Now, head on over to Mama's Losin' It to join in the fun of Writer's Workshop.

A broken mirror, a lacerated middle finger, and some totally cute hair bows

It's time again for Writer's Workshop over at Mama's Losin' It. I tried hard to come up with something in response to the prompts, and the closest thing I came to was to write in response to this prompt:

"How did you break it?"

The only problem? Well, I've never broken a bone in my life, and when I asked my husband to help me remember things I've broken, all we could think of was a mirror and an olive oil jar that I broke when it fell out of the pantry.

So, the jar (made of very thick glass) is scattered across the kitchen floor in our 365 square foot apartment (the joys of married student housing) and I lean down to start picking it up, except that I put my hand down to brace myself and end up lacerating my friggin' middle finger all to crap, requiring 3 stitches.

The doctor who sewed it up reminded us of Robin Williams and whistled a lovely little tune while he stitched away. Now I have this totally bad ass H-shaped scar right on the inner bendy part of my middle finger. Way cool, right?

Well, that's not all that exciting. Big whoop. A lacerated (I love that word - it sounds so serious - LACERATED) finger, a broken mirror - ehhh. Hardly worthy of a blog post, if you ask me.

So, let me tell you how my friend broke something. Well, actually her dog, Indiana, broke it. Indiana is the family dog, and she had to have surgery to remove a tumor, so I guess you could say Indiana broke the bank.

You may remember this friend from a giveaway I did a while back. Her name is Amy and she has an absolutely adorable Etsy shop where she sells her handmade bows for girls, as well as jewelry, crocheted hats and other girl's accessories.

She's having a HUGE sale and using the money to help offset the cost of Indiana's surgery, and you don't want to miss it. Today and tomorrow she's selling corker bows and double ribbon bows for 50% off. Here's a little taste of what could be yours...


Anyway, head on over to Amy's place - Sugar and Spice All Things Nice - and score yourself a set of these adorable corkers in all different colors for just $3.00 per set. Seriously - if you've got a little girl or know one, this is an incredible price for these handmade bows! Click here to view all of the korkers.

Here's a picture of the double ruffle ribbon bows - they come in regular size and minis. Just for some perspective, my baby's about 16 months old, and the minis are the perfect size for her. The regulars are still a bit too big for her head.


Aren't they gorgeous???

Now, head on over to Mama Kat's and check out the other Writer's Workshop posts, and while your bopping around online, go check out Amy's Etsy Shop for some smokin' deals on hair bows for girls!

If I had a million dollars, this is what I'd give you.

Fasten your seat belts, people. It's Thursday, and that means it's time for another Writer's Workshop with Mama Kat from Mama's Losin' It.

This week, we're going to do some pretending. Let's pretend I have a million dollars. And, along with that, let's say I happen to be feeling rather generous. My new found riches and sudden generosity lead me to send you all lovely little gift baskets full of my current favorite things, not unlike Scary Mommy, who is actually having a real favorite things giveaway as we speak, and happened to be Mama Kat's inspiration for this prompt.

In my hypothetical and amazing gift to you, my readers, I'll be covering many aspects of your life - we're talking fashion, snack attacks, gettin' your groove thang on, exercise, baby care, some fabulous television programming to help you escape the stress of your daily life, and some rockin' music for the kids that won't drive you batty in the process.

So, let's start with getting that butt of yours off the couch and into shape. We begin with my pretend boyfriend, Gilad. According to Fit TV, the Wall Street Journal (or some other major publication, don't quote me on the Wall Street Journal Part) "hails" Gilad as "an Israeli studmuffin." Not only is he a studmuffin, but over the past month, he's taken the place of Jillian Michaels in the majority of my at-home workouts. So, your first present from me? One year of personal training with Gilad. He won't fit in the basket, so I'd make you a gift certificate in Microsoft Word and stick it in there with the rest of the goodies. Oh, and no '80's spandex wedgie leotard required, unless you're into that sort of thing.

Next, I'd offer you a year's worth of Zumba lessons. I discovered Zumba a week or two ago, and it's the most fun I've ever had working out. We've already talked about how I couldn't dance to save my life, but maybe - just maybe - I'd have a chance after a few more weeks of Zumba. Seriously - this is some mad fun, people. We're talking Latin dance moves, salsa, cha-cha-cha's and a whole lot of shimmyin' and shakin'. It's like exercise in disquise because it's so fun, and it burns up to 800 calories per hour. If you're wondering what Zumba looks like, and what I look like when I do Zumba, the watch the 30 second video below. Watch the dancers in the back for proper technique, and watch the toddler in front for a more accurate picture of what yours truly looks like during Zumba class.

Ok, next is a snack. We all have snack attacks, and for us moms, when we forget to pack our own snacks in the diaper bag, sometimes we're left with no choice but to eat the snacks we packed for the kids. If your child is a toddler, you can rejoice because this no longer means you have to eat baby food from a jar, flaky, unmixed formula, or Gerber rice puffs. That's right - once your kid hits toddlerhood, you'll be arm wrestling them for their snacks. Dennis and I practically had a knock down drag out fight yesterday when I found out he ate the last four of the Sesame Street Very Vanilla Letter of the Day cookies. If you haven't tried these, you don't know what you're missing. So, let's toss a box or two of these in your gift basket.











Next, you need to feel good in your clothes. I've talked before about wanting the perfect pair of jeans, and finally finding them. In my roller coaster up and down battle with eating sweets and carbs and exercising and not exercising, I've occasionally whined about not being able to fit in my favorite pants. Well, since getting my butt back in gear, the pants fit again, and can I just say there is nothing else in life like have a pair of jeans that fit perfect and get comfier each day you wear them? I love, love, LOVE my Big Star Maddie fit bootcut jeans. Just the right amount of stretch , and oh-so-cute. So, here you go - a hot pair of jeans. You're welcome.




















So, since we're having so much fun pretending, let's say you're home by yourself for once in your life. Hey, miracles can happen, people. You put on your favorite jeans that now fit thanks to Gilad and Zumba, curl up on the couch after you grab a handful of your cookie monster cookies and wonder, "Well, what in tarnation should I watch?" You will find the answer to this question nestled to your gift certificate for a year's worth of workouts with Gilad. You will find one of my very favorite shows ever - Army Wives. And it's guaranteed time and space for yourself because you couldn't pay your man enough money to watch an episode with you. I'm giving you Season One in case you've never seen it. Always start from the beginning. Always.
















Next, you need to keep your kid distracted while you're driving, and your Top 40 station is just not cutting it anymore. You have finally given in and ventured into the world of children's music, only to be sorely disappointed about having to listen to songs sung by crazy purple dinosaurs (I didn't use the actual "B" word - did you notice?), puppets, or children hopped up on helium. No - there will be none of that for you. You deserve much better. From the band that brought you "One Week," "The Old Apartment," and "Pinch Me" comes a CD that's kid-friendly, but very, very easy on adult ears as well. I'm talking about Snack Time by the Barenake Ladies. Awesome, awesome CD. How can you not love a CD that talks about microwaved chocolate donuts being someone's favorite snack? It's my current favorite kid CD.















Ok, so you've been spending time with Gilad each day, hitting Zumba a couple times a week, slamming your cookie monster letter cookies, spelling all sorts of fun words with them, rocking your new pair of jeans, and driving your kid around town while you run errands listening to music that keeps the kid happy and keeps your sanity in check. So many good things! But, something was bound to go wrong.

Your kid gets a crazy bad fever, and your old put-in-under-the-armpit digital thermometer is taking way too long and your baby hates it, and oh crap, now you have to start taking the temperature all over again because your baby grabbed the thermometer and tried to jab your eye out with it. What ever will you do?

You will not panic, of course, because the last item I will so generously provide you with is a little piece of technological genius known as the temporal thermometer. Just run it across the forehead, and wa-LA. Works on sleeping babies, ready in 1 second, and proven in several hospital studies to be as accurate as the baby bum-bum method of taking temperatures. Every household with kids absolutely, positively needs one of these puppies. It's been a lifesaver, and now it can be your lifesaver, too.









But, only if you go buy it yourself because I'm cheap, and we're just pretending.

Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf?

Woo hoo! Time for another Writer's Workshop with Mama Kat. This week's prompt:
What are you afraid of? Bop on over to Mama's Losin' It to check out more Writer's Workshop submissions. You'll be glad you did. Pinky promise, dude. ;)

There are a few things that scare me in life. Some? Well, some worse than others. But, I feel like keeping this post humorous and not too heavy, so here are some of my more petty fears. We'll save some of the deeper, darker ones for another day.

Ok, so - what freaks me out?

Let's start with crickets. Those nasty, nasty, creatures. If I'm camping, crickets are one of my favorite sounds. But, if one gets in my house? Oh, you better watch OUT. I know they're small. I know they're harmless. But, you can never tell which way the darn, frickin' things are going to hop. So, I'm afraid to whack 'em, because I'm afraid they're going to do their crazy, spastic cricket jump and land on my face or something. Crickets just give me the heeby jeebies. As do any spiders that are not daddy long legs. And, while we're at it, let's add earwigs and centipedes to the list.

Let's see, what else scares me...

Sharts. I'm afraid of getting a shart in public. Seriously, people. This is no joke. I could be walking along in Wal-Mart, just happily cruising the aisles - joyous that I am alone, without a screaming child and without a husband who thinks he is being sneaky by putting powdered donuts and a box of 87 hot and spicy barbecue chicken wings in the cart, thinking I won't notice - and feeling like I have to toot. Farting in big places is not a problem, if you know it will be quiet fart (SBD, anyone?). There are so many people around that, shoot - who is actually going to know it's YOU, right?! But, if you shart (it's when you think it's just a fart, but you actually...uh, need I say more?), then there's no hiding it. And I do NOT pack my purse the way I pack Kaylee's diaper bag. I do NOT pack an extra outfit for myself. So, this is something that scares me.

I'm also afraid of following too closely behind people on the highway, which is why I always give a minimum 2 second following distance, just like I was taught in driver's ed. I know EXACTLY where this fear stems from. I was the passenger in my friend's car when we were on a very crazy freeway, and there was a domino effect car crash in which we rear ended someone who rear ended someone else. Car got dented up, but we were fine and dandy. But, she was following waaaay too closely, and I think we could have avoided the collision had she had at least a safe distance between the cars. Now, this fear puts my husband into fits of laughter when he drives and I'm his passenger. If I the person in front of us taps their brakes and he doesn't slow down at all, my arms instinctually flail about as if I'm about to brace for impact.

I'm also afraid of scary teenagers, public transportation, and someone busting into my house while I'm sleeping.

What scares YOU?

Road Trippin' - Toddler Style

This past Friday we got back from nearly a week's vacation, and I learned a thing or two while we were on our little adventure. I bring these lessons to you in the form of one of my favorite things - a list.

1. When a 15-month-old child hears an important adult in her life utter something to the effect of...Vacation. Relaxation. Out of state. Oh, I don't know...8 hour car ride, it immediately triggers a physiological response that sets the next group of four yet-to-emerge teeth into a frenzied race to the top of the gums to see who can emerge first.

This aforementioned physiological response will set said 15-month-old into a wild fit of screaming, crying with actual tears, whining, lots of "eh, eh, eh, eh, EH's" and will drive mother of said infant virtually insane while traveling to the much-anticipated vacation destination.

2. A regimen of both Tylenol and Motrin is not always as effective, cool, and fun as it sounds. For your teething child, of course. Now that I think about it, a Tylenol and Motrin regimen for myself probably would have been a genius idea. Darn hindsight...

3. All mothers of small infants need to RUN, not walk, to their doctor's office prior to departure when setting out on a road trip and demand a prescription for Xanax. Seriously.

2. Sister-in-laws are the bomb shizzle fo nizzle lifesavers of the universe.

3. Once a sister-in-law offers to sit in the seat next to the cranky, drugged up child that was previously occupied by a mama whose head was about to do this...











... and offers to let the mama sit in the very front seat instead, one's quality of life immediately improves by 104%. Amazing.

4. Never, I repeat NEVER, leave your child's "we only use them during sleep times" pacifiers in the trunk "because we only use them during sleep times."

5. You will break more rules on vacation than you ever thought possible. Rules to be broken include, but are not limited to: the no pacifiers during awake times rule, the you can scream all you want but you must eat all your meals in your high chair and not in someone's lap rule, the no you cannot have more milk - you've already had 3 sippy cups of milk, you will eat some food and you will eat it NOW rule, and the you only get to watch Barney once a day rule.

6. Parents whose teething children who are instantly calmed by Barney and Veggie Tales will have the following songs stuck in their heads approximately 3 hours after arriving at the destination: "Down on Grandpa's Farm," "The Annoying Yellow Blanket song" by Stupid Baby Bop, "Flying in an Airplane," and let's not forget the classic..."Oh, Where is My Hairbrush." If you did not already have every single ever lovin' lyric to each of these songs engrained in your memory before you left on your trip, don't worry. They'll all be there by the time you get back home. Every. Single. Annoying. WORD.

7. Early bedtimes (for kids and parents) are essential.

8. Day 2 will be much better. And so will every day after that.

9. Going nearly an entire week without cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, loading (or not loading) the dishwasher, and running errands is something I think I might take up on a more regular basis. That was awesome.

10. Getting away from the phone, the bills, the computer, WORK, and even my little house and my town was phenomenal. We're talking hiking, gorgeous gardens with tiny little waterfalls and tons of pretty flowers, canoeing, eating delicious foods, finishing two books, seeing new places, walking nearly everywhere I went, and just being able to RELAX was more than worth the craptastic start of our journey.

I'm already daydreaming about next summer's getaway...

(This post is a part of Mama Kat's Thursday Writer's Workshop. Although the prompt I chose was to recap a day in your life, I decided to cheat a teensy bit and recap a week. I know - I'm a rebel.)

I want a goose that lays golden eggs for Easter.

In my teen years (and if I'm being totally truthful with you, even now), if I want something from my dad, I act all cute and do the Veronica routine from the original Willy Wonka.

"Daddy!!! DADDY! I want a golden goose. I want a goose that lays GOLDEN eggs for Easter!"

It's kind of just this little joke that we have. Only now, it's not like I want to stay out late (well, actually, I wouldn't mind that, if I could actually stay awake long enough to be out past 9 p.m.) or have money to go to the movies or have my dad drive to who knows where to unlock my car for me because I locked the keys inside of it for the umpteenth time. Now, I mostly just say it to be stupid and funny (two things that I am really, really, ridiculously good at).

Now, my wants are a lot different. It's not so much about the movies, going out with friends, or being let into my car. These days, my wants are not as easy to fulfill. I've chosen my current top 3 wants, and I'm sharing them with you today. Should you have any suggestions for me, please - enlighten me.

WANTED:

1. I want my 30 Day Shred with Jillian Michaels DVD back. Kaylee, fess up. Where did you hide it, you little 14 month-old super sleuth? Mommy's butt is growing by the minute, and I won't do my squats and push-ups without my dear Jillian. Get on that, would you? While you're looking I'm going to go have some chocolate cake. Don't mind me, and don't ask me if you can have any. You can't. So be quiet, and go find my DVD.

2. I want a full piece of cheesecake that does not mysteriously decrease in size by 50 percent when I leave the house to go to the gym. That makes me cry. And whine. And turn into Ice Queen. My mom is taking care of this request this evening, so I won't be pining after it for much longer. But still, my mom is not here yet; hence, I am still wanting that cheesecake. Badly.

3. I want a clean house. I want a clean house that cleans itself. I have a self-cleaning oven. Now I want a self-cleaning house, dammit.

What do YOU want? Leave a comment with your top 3 wants of the moment.

Head on over to Mama's Losin' It and join in this week's Writer's Workshop Thursday for yourself. All the cool kids do it. You know you want to.

Weight just a minute now...

So, not too long ago, I decided to break up with my scale.

Nada. No more. Hasta la vista. It's done. We're over. I'm through.

It was causing too many problems. I'd step on it a couple times a day, or at least once every day. I'd freak out over fluctuations in my weight and I'd beat myself up, telling myself things like, "Yep, shouldn't have eaten all that pepperoni pizza. You need more salads!" "Well, if you would have gotten off your lazy butt and gone to the gym this probably wouldn't have happened..." And on and on and on.

Weighing myself constantly had quite the little snowball effect on me because every time I got off that scale, I found it necessary to stop and look in the mirror at critique myself from head to toe.

I'd look in the mirror, see a zit - get up closer in the mirror and notice a wrinkle, and another zit, and holy mackerel when was the last time I got my eyebrows waxed?!?!

I'd get dressed in the morning and analyze my lovely stretch marks and stand sideways to see how far my belly stuck out. I'd notice blemishes, sagging (why, WHY?!?!?), and a little extra chub a dub dub here and there.

I'd try on pants I knew were too small, and I'd get upset that I couldn't fit into them anymore. I'd tell myself I looked frumpy and tired and that I was just letting myself go.

It was exhausting, and it was a real bummer.

But, before I go any further, I must admit that this break-up was not my idea. I was inspired by Summer at Le Musings of Moi. Summer shared her own struggles with weight and body image issues, and stressed the importance of all of us women recognizing that we are beautiful, and we shouldn't let our scales tell us otherwise. She talked about getting rid of her scale because it was torturing her, too.

I thought it sounded like a good idea - I friggin' hated my scale, so why not give it a shot, right?

So, I gave up my scale cold turkey, and I haven't stepped on it since.

I can't even begin to tell you what a difference it has made all around. I mean, shoot! I know that weight fluctuates throughout the day - weighing in each day is ridiculous, and really, it doesn't even matter. I am at a healthy weight, so there was no reason to be obsessing over it. I literally had no reason I needed to be setting foot on that scale. It was almost like I just wanted to torture myself. I don't understand it.

When I ditched the scale and decided to do my very best to look for my beauty instead of my flaws, my confidence in myself changed. A lot.

I got new pants. Pants that fit. I'm not the same lady I was before I had my baby. I have fewer brain cells, a tad less of my sanity intact, and my boobs, butt, hips, thighs and everything else will never be the same again. It's the nature of motherhood.

So, instead of trying to fit into the mold of my pre-baby self (and all the pre-baby clothes that fit that particular mold), I am learning to accept this new body - sags, stretch marks, extra fluff and all. Because I'm fine. I'm fine just the way I am.

I only wear clothes that make me feel good. If it's baggy, or if it's too tight and uncomfortable, I don't wear it.

After ditching the scale, I've found myself wanting to take better care of myself. I have fun fixing up my hair and my makeup, and I can look in the mirror and smile back.

If I go a week without exercising, it's okay because I just do what I can when I can, and I do my best to stay fit. Sometimes my best is once in two weeks, and sometimes my best is three times a week. It just depends.

I let myself enjoy decadent, delicious foods that I love. I just do it in moderation, and I make sure I'm choosing healthy things as well. If I'm choosing, for the most part, to eat healthy and throwing in a few things here and there that are a bit more on the high-calorie side (translation: a bit more on the freakin' delicious side), then that's fine, and there's no reason to beat myself up for enjoying cookies, truffles and Cheetos. There are things I love that I am going to enjoy, and I'm not going to deprive myself of them out of the fear of gaining a little weight.

So scale, to be honest - I don't miss you. I don't miss your stupid numbers, your blinking sign telling me to wait, and your stupid error message when I stepped on you too soon.

I don't miss the never-ending self criticism and low confidence that you encouraged in me.

Scale - you are stupid, you are ugly, and your mother dresses you funny. So there.

(This post is a part of Mama Kat's Thursday Writer's Workshop.)

Today.

Today I will cut myself some slack. I won't freak out that my house is a disaster again, and I won't beat myself up for the fact that I haven't exercised at all this week.

Today I will open up all the windows in my house, let the fresh air in, and listen to the birds chirping while I thank God for all the amazing things he's done for me.

Today I will eat a piece of birthday cake for lunch, and I will let my daughter do the same.

Today I will put aside the laundry, forget about the 2 sinks of dirty dishes, the counter top covered in junk, and the countless Cheerios that have been stomped into the carpet, and I will cuddle with my daughter. For as long as she will let me.

Today I'll leave my computer off for a few hours.

Today I'll skip the shower, put my hair in a ponytail and call it good, because sleeping in is a fabulous luxury, and it's even greater when you've got a 1-year-old next to you talking with her hands - in her sleep.

Today I will look in the mirror and I will like what I see instead of choosing to focus on my flaws.

Today I've realized that I need to make an effort to have more days just like this.

Today is good.

Screaming babies, crazy mamas, big butts, and my recent absence

By screaming babies, I mean Kaylee.

By crazy mamas, I mean me.

And, by big butts I mean "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mixalot.

I love that song. The words are crazy and ridiculous, but I know I can't be the only one who just belts it out loudly while driving. Come on, you know you've done it.

So, I'm sure you've noticed I've been a little absent from the blog lately. I mean, I know your day starts by hoping and praying that I've published a new blog post, and I'm sure some of you have landed in therapy because you are sad when you don't see something new each and every morning.

But, worry not. I'm not going anywhere.

Last week, Kaylee and I took a ride on the Crazy Train, but rest assured - we have returned safe and sound, with no battle scars to show. She was going through the worst episode of teething to date. And I was trying with all my might not to lose my mind completely. I'm pretty sure part of it is gone, but let's just say it was a miracle I didn't take up drinking.

And by the way, can I just say that I've never, ever considered taking up drinking more times in my life than I have since I became a mom? I just had to get that out there...

So, anyway, we had 3 days in a row of pretty much non-stop screaming, crying, and whining. From both of us. Except I didn't do screaming. Just crying and whining. So, thank God for my sister-in-law who spoiled Kaylee on the 4th day so I didn't lose my mind entirely.

I know my blog was neglected, but life just happens. Something's gotta give some days, and last week, it was my blog. I sure did miss it because it definitely has a way of helping me deal with the craziness of my life.

Thanks, my lovely readers, for sticking with me, even when I don't post regularly. You are the best.

And, now I'm going to bed, because who knows whether or not I'll be getting a middle of the night wake-up call from my almost one-year-old.

*This post is a part of Thursday Writer's Workshop at Mama Kat's Losin' It.

Don't mind me. I'm just using my imagination.

It's that time again. Time for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, and this week I am so excited about the prompt because I get to imagine what I would do if I had $400 to spend. That's pretty amazing, considering my monthly allowance is about 20 bucks.

Of course, Mama Kat's prompt said I had to talk about ONE (and it was in all caps) thing that I would spend the money on. But, that's just not how I roll. If I've got a big wad of cash, I see how many things I can get with it. Plus, I can't really think of a $400 product that I want at the moment.

So, join me as I happily pretend that I could actually have all of these things. All at once.

Alright - so, I've got myself $400.

First, I would hit the mall. Duh.

I waltz into The Buckle, and I buy myself a pair of Lucky brand jeans. Because they always fit just right, and I haven't been able to wear a pair since I was 16 and no other brand of jeans fit my short legs. They are insanely expensive, but so well constructed. I've missed my Lucky jeans, so that's my first purchase.
























$400 - $99 = $301

Since I'm at the mall, I think I'll head on down to Barnes and Noble. I shall order a Chai Latte made with soy milk.


















$301 - $3.15 = $297.85

Gosh darn it, now I'm hungry. Guess I'll take a piece of crumble coffee cake, too.

















$297.85 - $1.85 = $296

Well, would you look at the time, it's still before 6 p.m. I think I'll go catch a matinee. So, one ticket to see I Love You, Man - $5. Can of soda - $0. Kit Kat from home $0. Having a purse big enough to smuggle in movie treats - Priceless. :)


$296 - $5 = $291

















Ok, well. There just happens to be a salon in the same complex as the theeatah, so I think I need to stop in and treat myself...

About 3 years ago I received a gift certificate for an Aveda botanical skin resurfacing (natural alternative to microdermabrasion) facial, and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. SO. I'll take one of those...
















And, my feet deserve some royal treatment since I trekked around the mall and wore them out. Plus, they look horrendous, and I want them to look beautiful. So, I'll take one of these, too, please. Spa style, with a parrafin wax dip, salt scrub, THE WORKS.


















Ahhhh....I feel relaxed just talking about it. So, let's tally up the remaining cash money.

$291 - $85 facial = $206 - $65 pedicure = $141

By this time, I'm so relaxed I probably shouldn't be driving, so I head home to do some online shopping.

First purchase? A case of these puppies. Hey, I need to restock my at-home stash, and there have been many times I wish I had a six pack around, but I didn't, so now all will be well with the world...





















$141 - $26.99 = $114.01

Next, I head to kohls.com. But, this next purchase needs an explanation. First off, these shoes are on sale. Second, in real life, I would never buy these shoes because I know I would twist my ankle and quite possibly even break it. But, I love these shoes, I've always wanted a pair, and this thing is all pretend anyway, so back off. I'm buying these shoes, dammit.

















$114.01 - $32.99 = $81.02

And, I need a dress to go with the shoes...














$81.02 - $67.50 = $13.52

These beauties should top off the outfit.























$13.52 - $20 on etsy = negative $6.48

Hey, what my husband doesn't know won't hurt him. ;)

Food - it's a love/hate thang

It's once again time for Writer's Workshop over at Mama Kat's Losin' It.



So, here's the question I've chosen to go with this week:

What is an unpleasant experience you had eating?

I'd rather not tell you about specific times I've had unpleasant experiences eating, like the time I realized I'd suddenly developed an allergy to bananas as an adult. Not lovely. Not lovely at all.

I won't tell you about the time I went picking raspberries in the woods with my family as a child and ate a *few* too many and had to lollygag behind everyone, telling them to go on ahead because I had to "pee."

Those things are none of your business.

SO. Let me tell you about my current love/hate relationship with food, and why it's been, in some ways, rather unpleasant lately.

Let me first start off by telling you that I LOVE food. Always have, always will.

I love carbs and I have a killer sweet tooth. I also like some healthy foods, but let's be real - it's way more fun (and therapeutic) to eat things that are bad. Come on - spear of celery or Krispy Kreme donut? Yeah...

In high school, I was 110 lbs. - it didn't matter what type of physical activity I did or did not do. It didn't matter what kind of food I did or did not eat. I could do whatever my little heart desired, and I didn't gain a pound.

The day I turned 18 something terrible happened.

I guess since I was technically a "grown-up" my body decided to start behaving like one. That meant that I could no longer eat anything and everything that sounded good, and I could't expect to stay small by sitting on my butt watching I Love Lucy marathons while eating pepperoni pizza dipped in Ranch dressing.

Sure, my metabolism was changing, but I did alright, I guess. I didn't weigh myself all that much, and I was basically okay with my weight. I took a fitness class each semester in college, and I was being more intentional about choosing healthier foods.

Then I got a miserable job straight out of college. I was on the road the majority of the time, and I was dealing with some really heavy situations that were pretty horific. Add that to the fact that I had ZERO support from my bosses, no way of really dealing with all the stress and sadness I was seeing day in and day out, and I was putting in a good 50 hours/week, but getting no overtime. I was basically volunteering to be an even more miserable person.

You bet your booty I was always helping myself to the donuts, pastries, cakes, and breads that were in the break room.

If I had to sit in my cooped up little office with no windows writing about how children were being abused, I felt absolutely entitled to enjoy a sweet treat whenever I wanted to. They tasted good, and they made me happy, and there was not much else at work to be happy about.

After nearly a year of torturing myself and realizing it was literally going to be the job or my sanity that would have to go, I quit. And I've never regretted that decision. Not for one SECOND.

During my time at that stupid ass job, I gained a lovely amount of weight. I had to buy new clothes because I could not fit into mine anymore. At all. Couldn't even fake it. Quitting did wonders for my mental well-being, and I decided it was time to do something about my physical well-being, too.

I got online, checked out Weight Watchers online (I knew people that had success with the in-person WW in the past, and it seemed like a realistic and healthy way to lose weight), and discovered that I had a pretty wide range of what was considered to be a healthy weight for my age, gender, and height. I was 13 pounds heavier than the heaviest recommended weight.

That might not seem like a lot, but it was to me. I'd never been so unhealthy and felt so crappy about myself. I hated having to buy bigger clothes, and I knew that I was eating as a way to deal with stress.

So, I did the Weight Watchers thing, and it worked tremendously. I loved it. I lost 18 pounds.

By the time I was done, I was actually 2 sizes smaller than the size I'd been happy with before I started gaining weight. I was fit, I was energized, and I felt great about myself.

The Thursday after I hit my final goal weight, I hit up Old Navy and bought the smallest size pants I'd ever worn (well, since I started wearing women's sizes and not girl's sizes anyway). I was ecstatic!

The very next day I found out I was pregnant with Kaylee. Nice joke, huh?!?! I haven't seen the likes of those pants SINCE. :) I thought it was pretty funny.

It was like God said, "Hey! Great job! You're totally skinny now, and now that you've proved to yourself that you can do it, you can just go right ahead and pack those cute capris away in a box in the garage because you probably won't be seeing them again. Uh, EVER."

(Just for the record - Kaylee's totally worth it. She's way cooler than those pants.)

So, all that to say that lately, I've been getting concerned about the numbers rising on the scale, yet again.

I got to my pre-baby weight real fast after having Kaylee, and I think a lot of that can be attributed to breastfeeding - apparently it's supposed to burn a butt-load of calories. But, I was SO over breastfeeding when Kaylee hit 9 months old, and that's when I began to ride the weight roller coaster again.

I know it's not out of control at this point, and realistically, I've just got a few pounds to eliminate. In my book, I am happy with my body when my clothes fit, and the number on the scale doesn't matter quite as much (although, of course, it still matters a little bit), as long as I am confident in my clothes, and as long as I feel healthy and fit.

That has NOT been the case lately. Pants - oh, how I've missed my favorite pants. The pile-on of extra poundage happens so quietly - one day you just wake up and it's like, "DANG. When did THAT happen."

So, I've decided to do something about it, and I'm really taking it seriously. Last week I went to the gym 5 times - did some Mommy and Me classes, aerobics, and just some basic cardio stuff followed by some light weight training. It felt fabulous. I felt skinnier when I left (even thought I wasn't), and I felt really good about myself. Just knowing that I'm consciously choosing to do something to have a healthier self makes a huge difference.

So, last week I jumped back on the exercise bandwagon, but even for that whole week, my hang up continued to be with food. I didn't want to say no to the three dinner rolls and lemon cheesecake at my mother-in-laws (along with a few other side dishes and the main dish). I was willing to work out, but I wasn't willing to give up the decision to eating anything that tasted good, and however much of it that I wanted.

But - finally, my stubborn self has come around, and I'm going to be eating healthier, too.

No more "grazing" on snacks all day. No more "just one Hershey's kiss" that turns into 17 Hershey's kisses (seriously - 17). No failure to plan healthy lunches. No more. NO. MORE.

Today I ate a salad with leafy green lettuce (not the non-nutritive iceberg crap), sliced turkey (97% fat free, thankyouverymuch), and dried cranberries, with that sweet spritzer salad dressing that has 1 calorie per squirt.

It was GOOD. It was full of flavor, and it even satisfied my sweet tooth. I was still hungry when it was gone, so I ate an apple, and I was good. to. GO. until dinner time.

I can DO this. I've done it before, and I can do it again. I know I can.

Let's just hope I don't get knocked up after I hit my goal weight and get back into my skinny pants this time...

The budding cleptomaniac, the dreaded unfollower, and some vodka

So, this week, Mama Kat's got a fantastic smorgasbord of writing prompts for Thursday Writer's Workshop, and I can't pick just one. So, here are the ones I've chosen.

Why did you do it?

Well, this is what I would ask today's "unfollower" of my blog. Was it the picture of my kid hanging off the dryer that did it? Unfollowers make me sad. But, then I get over it. I also notice that people have a tendency to follow my blog in order to get an extra entry in a giveaway, and as soon as they lose, they unfollow. LAME. In the words of Mama Kat, "Don't hate me 'cause you ain't me."

What is a common misconception about you?

Well, lots of people think I'm younger than I am. Let's back up in time for a moment, shall we?

When I was in high school, our family would go to restaurants and the servers would ask if I wanted a kid's menu. Uh, no thanks. And I happen to be nearly 6 years older than my brother, who did not get asked for a kid's menu.

I've also been carded for rated R movies. BUT, when I bought vodka once for an Italian sauce I was making, the cashier told me she didn't need my ID because she noticed the wrinkles by my eyes. Yowch.

People said I'd appreciate these comments (aside from the wrinkle one) when I hit 40. Well, I'm only 25, but let me tell you. I am loving these comments right now.

Describe a moment when you felt afraid.

Well, today I was afraid twice, so you get to hear about both times.

First scary moment of the day: So, I totally tripped over my own two feet and landed on my booty in aerobics class today. In the front row, no less. I twisted my ankle, which hurt at the moment it happened. I was so afraid I hurt it and someone would have to carry me to the hospital across the street, because no WAY was I going to pay for an ambulance to transport me less than a block away. But, lo and behold - it was all just fine and dandy.

Second scary moment of the day: I was so scared because I thought that for sure I'd be having my first encounter with one of the pot bellied 80-year-old security guards at the mall. In fact, the only thing keeping me from having a major freak out right there was knowing that I could outrun the old geezers. So anyway, back to the point...

Kaylee and I went to the mall and took a gander through The Children's Place. I had her in the Snugli carrier so I didn't have to maneuver a stroller through the racks of clothing. Well, we were just window shopping. I left the store and didn't buy a thing (which takes an amazing amount of restraint in such a store). We get to the exit of the mall, and I look down to see Kaylee playing with a pair of pink baby crocs (which, by the way, she already has a pair of at home). I high tailed it back to the store and put them on the rack. No one said a word.

Are you always right?

Well, if we're talking about all general matters of my life, such as arguments with my husband, ideas I have about what we should spend money on, and basically everything that does not have to with American Idol, then yes. I am always right. My darn American Idol predictions about who's getting the boot have, unfortunately, ruined my perfect record of always being right. Except tonight - I was spot on for tonight, so I guess you could say that 99.972 % of the time I am absolutely, positively always right.

But please don't ask my husband to answer that.

Because there's nothing wrong with playing in traffic

There were certain things I thought I'd never let Kaylee do. But, in the past year, I've loosened up a bit, and I've realized that flexibility and a laid-back attitude are definitely the way to go.

Now I let her do all sorts of things.

I let her shred toilet paper all over the house because it keeps her occupied and allows me to do very important things like pay the bills, clean the kitchen, and watch Grey's Anatomy.


I let her have tastes of sweet stuff like chocolate cake and sugary desserts.


I let her go out in public with food in her hair.


I let her lick rocks. Gross, I know. Whatever...I took it away after a couple minutes, okay?


I let her crawl around the house with dirty socks hanging out of her mouth.


I let her watch TV.

I let her play in traffic.

I let her put a pacifier back in her mouth after it's fallen on the floor (without washing it off - the horror!!!).

I let her chomp on jalapenos when her gums hurt from teething.

I let her go to bed without a bath some nights.

Because - ya know, some things just aren't worth getting all worked up over...

*This post is a part of Mama Kat's Thursday Writer's Workshop.